


Disturbia

by ArcadiaEclipse



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017), Man of Steel (2013)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Hermaphrodites, M/M, Porn With Plot, Threesome - M/M/M, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-22 20:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18535129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadiaEclipse/pseuds/ArcadiaEclipse
Summary: While snooping the Bat Cave basement Clark discovers a prisoner of the Batman whom he frees and takes back to his apartment earning Bruce's wrath.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fanfic was born of my inability to find anyone to RP DC-verse with and my subsequent binge of DC fanfiction. This is my first fanfic for this fandom so please be kind! I plan it to be three chapters long, hopefully I will get the next chapter out in a few days. Fingers crossed!

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Batman didn’t want the members of the Justice League wandering around his personal space. Always they would meet in the R & D bay of the Bat Cave, never venturing deeper into the numerous side tunnels where Bruce kept any manner of tech or sensitive information. It bothered Clark Kent, even if the alien was no longer a reporter since coming back from the dead a year and a half earlier. Sometimes when Bruce would debrief them about a mission Clark found his gaze drifting towards those tunnels, consciously not using his x-ray vision since that would be an uninvited intrusion into Bruce Wayne’s privacy.

It bothered him to no end. What didn’t Bruce trust them to know? The Batman seemed to have a cache of information about each of the meta-humans, but besides being a billionaire with a very technologically advanced suit and a bunch of cool toys nothing was really known about Bruce’s activities when alone and left to his own devices.

Maybe that was why Clark found himself bypassing the various security measures that Bruce employed when the Cave was empty and the Superman began poking around those unexplored tunnels to see what he could find. Mostly it was old Batman suits and disused weaponry. But two years spent catering to Perry White’s reporting whims at the Daily Planet left Clark with a healthy curiosity for the unknown and an investigative spirit that at times rivaled that of Batman himself. 

Seeing the cave take a detour into a dead end where a floor-to-ceiling steel door and a biometric hand sensor on the front gave Clark reason to wonder if Bruce had lost his mind and was building a super weapon in the basement of what was once Wayne Manor that even the Batman was cautiously hiding from the rest of the Justice League. Flashes of poison-spewing grenades and a lurid green-tipped spear that he had once wielded against Luthor’s biological experiment on Zod flickered to mind, and for a moment Clark wondered if Bruce had gotten his hands on some more kryptonite, but when he focused and used his x-ray vision to review Batman’s latest weapon he froze.

There was a person inside. Living, breathing- he could see the skeleton frame and a circulatory system working in harmony with a beating heart. And what’s more, he appeared to be fully human. The captive, for that’s what he was as far as Clark was concerned, appeared to be sitting on a small metal-frame bed. Nearby was a shower head and on the floor lay the neglected remains of his last meal. Clark couldn’t confirm what it was, but the food had long since gone cold. Hours? Days even? God knows Clark wouldn’t put it past Batman to be a piss poor warden when it came to taking care of his prisoners.

Because that’s what this person clearly was. A prisoner of Bruce Wayne or the Batman, either way he did not appear to be given many liberties, but it was what his x-ray eyes spotted next that made Clark’s lips press together and his brow furrow. Shackles. A half dozen or more chains bound the prisoner to the cell wall, his wrists, his ankles, even one chained about his neck like a damned animal. Clark registered all of it, and before he could give the situation any further careful assessment his hands were on the steel door and his inhuman strength caused the metal to bend inward upon itself and eventually give way entirely.

When he tossed the door aside like it weighed nothing the resounding thud made the prisoner tense and wide blue eyes stared deeply into Superman’s own hosting a thousand questions but none of them verbalized. Clark held up his hands, palms turned outwards since that seemed to calm humans and showed he was unarmed, though a fat lot of good that did considering the prisoner had just seen him take out a half foot of steel with his bare hands. Silence loomed heavy over the pair, and it was Clark that finally spoke first.

“Who are you?”

The prisoner stared at him not moving from the side of the small bed, just sitting there in a pair of green scrub pants and shirt (or maybe a prison uniform?) and looking Clark over warily. It was a few heavy moments before his chapped lips parted.

“Jack.”

The Metropolis hero consciously softened his expression and slowly made his approach.

“Hi Jack. I’m Superman.” Better not to give his real name just yet, but he made an effort to smile warmly. “Here, I can take care of those chains.”

He stepped towards the prisoner again, but Jack shifted backwards on the bed until he was curled up with his knees against his chest, back pressed to the wall, and clearly not eager to comply. What the hell had Bruce done to this man? Truth, the Batman was terrifying to an ordinary citizen, but most people didn’t find themselves behind six inches of pure Gotham steel in Bruce Wayne’s basement laboratory.

Clark consciously kept his expression soft and tried again.

“Let me help you?”

Jack vigorously shook his head, one thin hand rising to point towards the cameras that Clark had missed upon his first overview of the situation from outside the cell walls. But the pale hand rising caused the chains on his wrist to shift and Clark could clearly make out what weren’t just evidence of metal bruises- there were fingerprints on this man’s wrists clear as day. Part of him wanted to stride over and pull the man’s sleeve back to see what else Batman had done to him, but given the current level of resistance and hesitance in Jack’s demeanor anything so aggressive might give the man a heart attack.

“Look,” Clark tried gently yet again, “I know he’s been hurting you, but whatever you’ve done it doesn’t warrant being treated this way. Let me help you?”

For a moment Jack looked into his eyes blankly, no, defeated. When he shifted forward and held out his hands it was a moment of great relief for Superman who made removing the metal look easy with his fingers snapping the steel and setting Jack free first at the hands then the ankles. After removing the chain around the prisoner’s neck he smiled.

“I won’t hurt you. Why does he keep you like this?”

The blonde chewed his bottom lip silently for a little longer than felt comfortable for Clark before his husky voice spoke again.

“I was….really sick. I needed medicine to get better, but before I started it I…did some pretty terrible things. Hurt people for no reason.” Jack fingered one of the broken shackles idly, but his blue eyes bored deeply into Clark’s own and held his gaze evenly now that the fear seemed to be dissipating. “So he keeps me locked away.”

“Even though you’re okay now?”

“He wants to keep an eye on me.”

Clark frowned. There were literally hundreds of criminals between Gotham and Metropolis, some linked to especially dangerous activities, and the Justice League would generally keep tabs on them but from afar. People made mistakes, and Clark could see a few scars on the this man’s exposed hands and feet, even some on his face where it looks like someone had made an effort to do some light plastic surgery but still the scars on his cheeks were obvious to Superman’s gaze. Christ, it looked like someone stuck a knife in the man’s mouth and went to hell on him. The Kryptonian’s brow furrowed. He wouldn’t put it past Batman to have used some “enhanced interrogation” tactics on the guy.

“So you put a tracker on someone when they’re no longer a threat. You don’t chain them up in a basement behind six inches of steel!” Clark was getting heated, and his opinion of Bruce was getting lower by the second. He needed the man as an ally, but Batman didn’t need Jack here. Not anymore. Clark would keep tabs on him if need be, but he should go free. “C’mon. I’m getting you out of here.”

Jack no longer seemed as skittish as he was when the six-foot-four alien came barging into his cell. He climbed off the bed and moved over to the taller man, reaching out, and touching Clark’s chest with feather-light fingers. And then the young man smiled.

“You are real. Not some Batman trick. But where would I go? I don’t…have any friends or family.”

Clark’s mind was made up before he wrapped an arm securely around Jack’s waist. Christ he was thin. Was Bruce even feeding him regularly? Nothing some good, Southern cooking couldn’t fix, he counseled himself.

“I have my apartment. And in the morning I’ll find somewhere safe for you.”

Jack nodded and allowed the hold of his waist. In fact, he seemed to be pressing himself flush against the steely flesh covered by Clark’s Superman suit, not pulling away but instantly comfortable with his rescuer. The next moment they were flying through the cave and back out into the night sky, leaving Gotham like a bullet fired astray in the darkness and alighting on Clark’s Metropolis balcony within moments of leaving the ground. The blonde man gasped once they landed and stared up at Superman surprised but not afraid.

He didn’t ask where they were, didn’t recognize the skyline around him lit up like Christmas in the darkness, just followed Clark through the sliding glass door into his fifth floor apartment and looked around. It looked….homey. Warm and comfortable. Dirty dishes by the sink, several articles of clothing tossed vaguely in the direction of the hamper, a box of breakfast cereal still on the kitchen table, but nothing feminine in sight. The hero evidently didn’t live with a woman. The corners of his lips twitched into a smirk before consciously softening into a smile that he turned on Superman.

“Thank you. Is there… Could I take a shower here?”

“Of course,” Clark smiled. “I’ll look for some clothes to fit you.”

Jack moved to the bathroom, stripping off his scrub shirt as he went, and part of him was aware that Clark’s eyes were on him as he did and even lingering afterwards. Because Jack was different. Clark stared outright at the small breasts that made an appearance, but his confusion was quickly replaced by hatred upon spotting bruises on Jack’s ribcage and on his right breast just beside the nipple were what appeared to be teeth marks. He was too much of a gentleman to ask whether Batman had raped Jack, but his sensitive nose caught the odor of blood and semen when Jack kicked off his pants and stepped into the warm spray.

It was several minutes before Clark noticed that his hands were clenched into fists. He was going to have a serious conversation with Bruce Wayne, and he swore to make every possible effort not to hit the man during the interrogation. Clark was no monster, but clearly Bruce was. Over and over he ran through the conversation he would be having with Batman the next day about prisoner protocols and stupidly the difference between right and wrong, because somewhere along the way Batman had lost his way.

Eventually the sound of water ceased and several minutes later Jack emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy towel and grinning for the first time.

“The towels smell like your cologne. I like it.”

Flushed and clearly not expecting the complement, Clark held out a pair of pajama pants and a flannel button-down that would hang off Jack’s skinny frame but it would be comfortable to sleep in. He had changed in the meanwhile into a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, looking more relaxed than when wearing his super suit. He was almost embarrassed on Jack’s behalf when the blonde unwrapped the towel and right there in front of Clark’s gaze he pulled on the shirt and pants unabashed or trying to hide anything from view, and once he was dressed he looked over his shoulder and noted Clark’s stare with a sheepish grin.

“I’m a hermaphrodite. Boy with girl parts,” he clarified enjoying how the words made Clark flush and look away. “Batman likes to collect freaks.”

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” the brunette spoke softly but adamantly on that point.

Bingo. Slowly Jack approached him and the man was cautiously optimistic as he laid his wide, warm hands on Clark’s clothed pectoral muscles and blinked. It was like laying his hands on granite. The guy was built like a god, and that didn’t seem to deter Jack one bit. Far from it, even if Clark thought power should probably scare off the man who had lived as Batman’s prisoner and sexual outlet. Jack stroked over his chest and shoulders, marveling at the pure, unadultered strength he found there beneath a simple T-shirt, and it seemed like the most natural next step for him to lean upwards and press his lips to Clark’s briefly before pulling away to assess the farm boy’s reaction to his boldness. Clark looked surprised, but not disgusted. Maybe a bit confused how Jack could show affection so freely after being locked away and abused for so long.

“Jack?”

“Mmhmm?” The blonde pressed a series of kitten soft kisses down Clark’s jaw and his neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Seducing you.”

The simplicity of the statement was actually refreshing given the complexity of that particular evening’s activities, but it was unexpected in its blatant honesty just the same and Clark gently turned the smaller man’s face up to regard his serious expression.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

“Why?”

“I want to,” the blonde repeated with a shrug. He was a far cry from the pale, cowering figure Superman had met in Bruce Wayne’s basement just an hour earlier. This man actually seemed sure of himself, playing gently with the sensitive hairs at the nape of Clark’s neck and trying to coax a favorable reaction from the hero. It had been so very long since Clark Kent was last with another person romantically- nearly a year since breaking up with Lois, and it wasn’t like the skinny man in his arms wasn’t attractive even with his numerous bruises and scars. That was the main deterrent to all of this though- Clark refused to treat Jack no better than Batman. Wouldn’t sleeping with him make Superman the true hypocrite?

But Jack was pressing against him so perfectly and had returned to giving those electric little kisses to Clark’s jaw and throat eliciting a soft groan from the brunette before Kent even realized what he was doing. Slowly his arms moved to encircle the man’s waist careful to keep his hold gentle and not overpowering. Jack deserved gentleness and Clark was the very definition of a gentleman. After several drawn-out moments of soaking up the sensation of Jack’s mouth he was tipping his head down and catching those teasing lips in a kiss that swore an oath of only sweetness and genuine affection tonight.

“I promise not to hurt you.”

Jack actually laughed and it was a little off-putting and strange, not the reassuring note that laughter usually was, but Clark dismissed his gut reaction when the blonde turned a grin up at him.

“I honestly didn’t think you would, but I don’t break easily.”

Clark frowned pointedly.

“I’m being serious.”

“Why so serious, Superman?” Jack tipped his head to the side as if assessing him for the first time. He seemed disinterested in additional conversation that wasn’t dirty words and angelic promises involving Clark’s member, and it was Jack who finally took the other man’s hand and tugged the hero towards the bed. Not that he could have budged the older man if Clark hadn’t wanted it just as much.

The mattress was lumpy, but the sheets were soft and tumbling into the center with Jack beneath him, lips pressed together into a frenzy of sudden need made Clark rethink his earlier hesitation. He wanted Jack- spread wide, open and willing beneath him in the bed and it certainly seemed like the blonde was on the same page since Jack was reaching for the hem of Clark’s T-shirt and dragged it up and off in one fluid movement that scarcely required their lips time to separate. Part of Clark, a more primal, less-logical side of the Man of Steel preened when Jack stroked both hands in awe up his solid six-pack abs, his pectorals and shoulders each in turn.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” the husky voice purred and Clark’s dick throbbed in approval from where it remained trapped in his sweatpants.

“You’re gorgeous too.”

Jack just shook his head.

“I’m a freak, remember?”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Clark whispered in response to Jack’s adamant self-depreciation. The blonde made no move to stop him as Kent carefully unbuttoned the man’s borrowed shirt and eased it off his body exposing the pale skin, smooth stomach and yes, the small breasts that had captured Clark’s attention when Jack undressed for his shower. Instantly his eyes fell on that damned bite mark, but the Kryptonian kept himself from frowning or showing any sign of disgust so long as Jack seemed to dislike his own body. Instead the hero managed a smile and kissed a line up Jack’s sternum finding his lips again moments later.

“You’re beautiful.”

“There’s more,” the smaller man promised him, and for a moment Jack wriggled beneath him on the bed pushing the pajama pants off and kicking the offending fabric over the side of the bed. Curiosity had Clark in full compliance when Jack took one of his wide hands and guided it down, down his body, parting his newly naked thighs around Superman’s hips and then their conjoined fingers made contact with Jack’s cock. The smaller man shuddered.

“Not that,” he clarified, fingers curling over Clark’s to press them behind his balls lower. “That.”

Clark blinked and wordlessly traced the slit he had been lead to on a guided tour of Jack’s unique body. It was unexpected, although given what Jack had up top he could have assumed the same would be true of what lay between the man’s thighs. Clark was intrigued, not deterred as he brushed two fingers over the warm opening, stroking it thoughtfully then easing the digits inside which earned a soft groan from the man spread out on the bed below him. Never having been with a man before should have given him pause, but this was familiar even if the cock pressed half-hard against his thumb was a strange sensation.

No additional coaxing was needed on Jack’s part, Clark was already hard enough to cut steel in his sweatpants, and he left the warm circle of Jack’s legs just long enough to shuck those off and then brace himself newly naked atop the blonde. Curious fingers drifted down his body yet again, although this time Jack didn’t stop at Clark’s waist, dipping lower still until one warm hand closed over Clark’s dick and earned him a soft exhale of breath from where the hero’s lips pressed into his shoulder. Superman was indeed super in every way right down to his perfect ten inch cock, thick and engorged just from their foreplay so far although another part of him, a small, rational voice in the back of his head whispered ‘maybe it’s too much’.

“Well damn,” Jack mused aloud, but he was grinning, all signs pointing towards ‘go’. “You’re crazy big, Superman. Never been with someone as big as you.”

Ha. Suck it, Batman.

“It’s okay. We’ll only do what you want to. What you can manage,” he murmured into the smaller man’s shoulder earning him a devious expression and another increasingly passionate kiss as Jack stroked him while Clark continued to dip two fingers inside the blonde’s slit drawing slickness from the motions. God knows they were going to need it.

Part of him felt guilty that Jack’s dick was being neglected, but Superman only had so many hands and currently one was bracing himself atop Bruce’s former prisoner and the other was knuckles-deep between the man’s thighs. He tried pulling his fingers free and using Jack’s own slickness on him when replacing his hand on the man’s cock, stroking him slowly from base to tip. It was new, but really no different than giving himself a morning handjob in the shower. Just another dick in his fist. The stroking made Jack whimper beneath him however and even buck his hips upwards into that meaty fist seeking so much more than just fingers and palm. He wanted all of Superman, all ten fucking inches, and the way that Jack lewdly wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and turned a sex-mussed gaze up on the man atop him was a hint even before the blonde spoke.

“Fuck me, Superman. Like you never have before, give me all of it and more.” Jack leaned up and pressed a finger to Clark’s lips silencing the protest that was brewing in the Kryptonian’s mind before he could even form the words. “You won’t break me. I promise you won’t.”

Clark looked at him wordlessly, lips pressed to that finger not forming a coherent sentence in the wake of such an offer. He always had to hold himself back of course, always gentle and kind in bed with his lovers and taking his pleasure only from giving them theirs. Pure animal need rarely snaked its way into Clark Kent’s bedroom, and those times it was only for his mental spank material, never for an actual sexual act. But the invitation was there and for a moment Clark let the beast into the bedroom.

The finger at his lips was batted away and instead he pressed a rough kiss to Jack’s lips, certain that they would be kiss-bruised come morning but the beast in Clark’s chest purred at the domination caring nothing for consequences. For a moment he sat back on his heels and used his hands to pull Jack’s bottom onto his thighs, spread lewdly like the porn that made him blush. The blue eyes that locked onto his were excited and willing.

“Think you can take this?”

“Yes! God, yes!”

It was certainly an enthusiastic response from his new lover. For a moment Clark yanked open the bedside table and rummaged for a condom, but when his hand emerged with the foil-wrapped square Jack’s hand was on his wrist, ocean blue eyes locked on his and darkening as he whispered.

“Can we do it without one? Just want to feel your bare cock stretching me ‘til I’m fucking wrecked then pumped full of your cum.”

Again, Kent’s cock twitched and the beast in his chest purred at the lewd suggestion so he found himself absently discarding the condom back in the drawer forgotten. What would Lois say to him barebacking a strange man just hours after they met? Clark shook the idea away. It had no place in his bedroom tonight when the wanton blonde was looking up at him with kiss-bruised lips parted and breathing already ragged. It was the most debouched thing that Clark had seen in ages, and before he knew it his hand was on his dick guiding just the tip inside Jack’s slit and then slowly, minutely angling his hips forward inching himself inside the clenching heat he had found.

He was rewarded with Jack’s ragged moan and a front row seat to the man arching his back sharply to welcome the full ten inches of Superman’s impressive cock. In fact, Jack’s heels were digging into Clark’s lower back until the hero was fully seated inside him. At some point during the drawn-out affair Jack also reached down to begin jerking himself off, but Clark batted his hand away to take control of this as well. It was his first time with a man, but the human male anatomy was not strange to him and he refused to make Jack get himself off while Clark took all the pleasure.

Besides, Clark didn’t need two hands to brace himself atop the smaller man when he began thrusting carefully into the warm cavern of Jack’s body. His shoulders rippled under the blonde’s hands, and there was the distinct sensation of short nails digging into his back only serving to encourage him to drive forward faster and harder. Part of him worried that it was too much like Batman, too aggressive for the recovering prisoner, but Jack seemed into every movement, tipping his head back and moaning loud enough for the neighbors to hear.

“Fuck…don’t stop. Fucking pound me.”

It wasn’t what Clark was expecting, but the words went straight to his dick and the hero found himself groaning into Jack’s shoulder and biting down lightly before hastening his thrusts until he was slamming his hips forward with bruising force. Jack took all that he had to give and never complained, even seeming to encourage the roughness with the way he clutched to Clark’s muscles and melted under the domineering position of Superman leaning over him balls-deep in Jack’s hole.

When Jack came it was an erotic sight, the blonde arching sharply and crying out words of encouragement for the Kryptonian hammering his body from the inside with a dick that could penetrate steel. Thin ropes of come left his smaller dick still wrapped up in Superman’s fist and coated both the hero’s fingers and Jack’s own stomach. His grip on Clark’s shoulders never softened however, still clutching to the rippling mass of velvety muscle while the Metropolis hero continued to pound him with jackhammer thrusts. For a moment Clark wondered if he should slow down but Jack was still moaning, still holding onto him and, God, those thin lips parted and poured out naughty words of encouragement.

“F…Fucking wreck me. Ruin me to any dicks but yours.”

Clark didn’t know he had a kink for dirty talk before tonight, but those words raced past the beast in his chest that was roaring approval now and shot like liquid lightning directly into his cock. The brunette slammed as deeply as he could go and stilled, his come pouring directly into the Batman’s prisoner, coating his insides and spilling out around Clark’s cock to pool on the sheets below. His body stilled now where it was braced over Jack, but his head bent down to capture those filthy lips in a post-coital kiss that he hoped wouldn’t be their last. The sex was amazing in Clark’s opinion and he knew he might need to keep tabs on this man for more reasons than just security.

Slowly Clark withdrew from the other man, the beast in his chest sated but gloating over the way Jack’s abused slit was gaping slightly and leaking copious amounts of the Superman’s come. He left Jack just long enough to grab a towel from the bathroom which he used to clean them both and dab at the puddle of cooling semen on the bedsheets. Jack was listlessly obliging every movement, thoroughly fucked and ready for bed, which in retrospect was exactly what Clark was feeling for what might be the first time in his life. He climbed back into bed behind the blonde, drawing Jack to his chest and being every bit the proper ‘big spoon’ while listening to Jack’s heartrate steady and his system return from an impressive sexual high. Clark was almost reluctant to break the silence with words.

“Tomorrow I get up around six to get ready for work. I’ll find you a place while I’m gone and we’ll go there tomorrow when I get home.”

Jack nodded, unperturbed by the details. Sleep was his priority at the moment, finding a place to stay could wait. Clark was in agreement on that point, and the larger man just held Jack against his chest gently as both men drifted off together into a dreamless sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Clark Fucking Kent!”

Clark adjusted the headset on his ear though it would do nothing to lower the volume of Bruce’s words at just seven minutes past eleven in the morning. Around him other employees in the bank continued their own service calls helping civilians with their debits and credits, balances and investments. Only Clark Kent seemed aware that anything was out of the usual, and he took a deep breath to keep his unwavering composure, purposely focusing his eyes on the computer screen and maintaining his low, even tone to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. Call center employees weren’t even supposed to have personal extensions, but somehow Bruce reached him on his work line.

“Thank you for calling Wayne Financial. We are on a recorded line for quality assurance. Can I please have your-“

“Can it, Kent. You fucking work for me! Get your ass over here right now so I can punch you in your perfect fucking face! Where the hell do you get off prying into my personal business?”

“Mr. Wayne, this is a conversation we should probably have in person. My break is in an hour if you-“

“You’re on break now. You know where to find me.”

The call disconnected and Clark frowned, eyes flitting to the computer program that displayed his daily work schedule and sure enough his break time had shifted to that very second and the remainder of his schedule that day was blocked out ominously as ‘Performance Evaluation’. Leave it to Bruce Wayne to lack all subtlety when making demands on Superman’s presence.

Sighing, Clark logged out of his phone and computer, standing and calmly walking the myriad lines of desks into the hallway and down the elevator which took him into the central lobby. From there it took less than ten minutes to walk down the street and duck into the nearest alley where Clark could stash his work clothes and emerge as Superman soaring through the sky surpassing even jet speed towards Gotham and in particular the rebuilt Wayne Manor. It wasn’t a long trip, and by the time he landed Clark had already counseled himself that he had done the right thing in freeing Jack; that Bruce was in the wrong this time and he would stand up for that fact adamantly regardless of what words were fired his way.

Alfred led the way through the house into the large dining room that had been acting as headquarters for the Justice League since Wayne Manor was rebuilt seven months prior. Bruce was sitting when he arrived, but as soon as the doors were closed and the two men were alone together the billionaire clenched his jaw and stood up to lean on the polished wood of the table glaring at Clark. Distantly the Kryptonian was grateful that he, not Bruce, had the laser vision.

“You snooped. You stuck your damn head where it wasn’t needed, Clark.”

“I did,” the younger man admitted, but he didn’t seem regretful for what he had done and that seemed to push Bruce’s buttons even more.

“You don’t even know what you did, do you?”

“I freed a man who might have been a criminal before, but with medicine and self-care he was reformed. A man that you insisted on keeping prisoner in your basement rather than monitor him on the outside like we do everyone else suspected of being a potential danger.” He didn’t bring up the rape accusations yet, but that little detail he kept as backup ammunition in case this argument took a turn for the worse. “You had no reason to keep Jack imprisoned.”

Bruce erupted in dark, ironic laughter.  
“’Jack’? Is that what he called himself?”

Clark was stunned into silence, the blood in his veins suddenly very cold as Bruce approached him incredulously.

“He’s the goddamned Joker, Clark! Gotham nemesis number one! Arkham escapee, maniac in a suit, serial killer, and a fucking pain in my ass! The Joker!”

That lump in his throat that had been building since Bruce revealed that there was no ‘Jack’ just grew monumental and Clark had to consciously swallow several times to steady himself. Usually he was immoveable- the very definition of control and level-headedness, but even Clark Kent knew of the Joker and the immeasurable chaos that the vigilante had caused Gotham just three years prior. It was a frequent case study for the Justice League in how to handle a maniac with a grudge against society, one that Clark had studied even if he didn’t know that the Joker was being contained outside of Arkham’s walls since his last escape and subsequent capture.

“I didn’t know. He seemed so level-headed and calm, he just… He said he was on medicine and doing better.”

Bruce’s lip curled into a sneer and the older man reached onto one of the plush leather swivel chairs to retrieve a Ziploc bag of pills, liquid and syringes which he practically shoved in Clark’s face.

“You mean this medicine? The ones you didn’t think to take with you in your rush to play freedom fighter?”

Shit.

“I made an error in judgement.”

Clark didn’t even try to avoid the bag of medicine that was suddenly hurled at him, just watching it strike his chest and fall to the floor. He didn’t blame Bruce for his violent reaction and would have taken a thousand strikes more if he thought it could have helped in some way. How could he have been so stupid? Christ, he had sex with the maniac. Come to think of it…

“You were sleeping with him.”

Bruce’s jaw clenched and idly Clark’s sensitive hearing picked up the grinding of the Batman’s teeth.

“Don’t you dare judge me, Clark Kent. You slept with him too!”

Those words were like a bucket of icy water had been dumped on Clark’s head, and not just because Bruce spoke the truth of Clark’s lapse in judgement when it came to his sexual partners. There was no way that Bruce could have known that Superman had been intimate with the Joker unless Bruce had eyes and ears in unwanted places. Never before had Clark even pondered the idea that Bruce Wayne might be keeping tabs on him and his personal life in a very intrusive manner, but really should he even be surprised?

“You’re spying on me.”

“Of course I am! I have your whole apartment bugged floor to ceiling, Clark. If you take a piss at two am I know about it.”

It was horribly embarrassing that Bruce had apparently seen or heard what had taken place the previous evening in Clark Kent’s bedroom. Those filthy words the Joker had spoken, begging Clark to bareback him, to pound him and wreck him to smaller dicks. A hint of redness tinged Clark’s cheekbones from the memory before he could subdue his embarrassment over the realization that Bruce knew everything about his sexual encounter with one of Gotham’s number one supervillains. There were so many red flags- Jack’s strange laugh, the suddenness with which he seduced Superman, his lack of concern over how rough Clark was being…

“So what do we do now? I assume he’s left my apartment.”

“Hours ago, yeah. Luckily I planted a tracker on the Joker after capturing him the last time. It’s not easily removed.” Clark didn’t want to ask for clarification, but his silent frown was more than enough to draw a wry smirk from Bruce. “A subdermal implant in his spine where he can’t remove it without causing catastrophic neurological damage.”

Christ. Batman really was a monster, but just one in a sea of many within Gotham’s limits it seemed. Clark had to hand it to him though, it sounded like an effective way of tracking someone that didn’t want to be found. Anything less and the Joker probably would have carved it out of his own flesh like it was nothing more than a mild irritant. The sick but efficient way that Batman dealt with problems was actually going to be to their benefit when it came to hunting down the Joker yet again.

Clark’s lips pressed into a stoic line.

“Tell me where he is and I’ll go after him.”

“No,” Bruce said firmly giving no room for contradiction. “I’ll handle your fuckup tonight. The medication is strong and should still be partially in his system so I doubt he’s a complete threat just yet. We shouldn’t underestimate him though.”

“Look, it was my mistake that caused this,” Clark pressed. “At least let me help. I can be backup in case something does go wrong, and Bruce…you can’t really stop me from coming along if I want to.”

The glare and accompanying annoyed expression that Bruce Wayne leveled at him was borderline murderous, but in the end Batman had to acknowledge that Clark had a point. Trying to keep Superman out of it would be impossible sans a sizeable chunk of kryptonite and Bruce was reluctant to waste his very limited supply of the rare ore just to exclude the younger man from a hunt. One which was technically all Clark’s fault, no less. Reluctantly Bruce nodded his head and noted the relieved look from his fellow hero. Now that the evening arrangement was established Clark glanced at the expensive grandfather clock in the corner of the room. His break was technically over.

“I should get back to the office.”

“What’s your hurry?” Bruce intoned and Clark regarded him clearly confused so the Gotham Bat smirked which succeeded in wringing a wary expression from his employee. “It’s time for your performance evaluation. I heard some truly sensational things about your abilities Clark, and I thought I might like to see for myself what the fuss was all about.”

Clark frowned.

“What are you talking about?”

“Seducing you. Why so serious, Superman?”

The words were a familiar echo of his evening spent with Jack- no, the Joker. For a moment Clark thought, or maybe hoped, that Bruce Wayne was just teasing him about his sexual indiscretion, but the sound of his boss’s pulse steady yet elevated betrayed that this probably wasn’t just a joke. Brows knit, Clark maintained his composure as Bruce Wayne approached him only to stroke a gentle hand down his cheek. For a moment the Batman had the sense of caressing Michelangelo’s David in marble, all exceptional contours and lines. Fucking perfect bastard.

He had to give Clark credit, the man wasn’t backing away, no stuttered apologies, no fleeing from Bruce’s hand as it drifted down the stark ‘S’ on his suit then lower seeking southern territory. No protests, but then Clark wasn’t exactly participating in the touch and feel session either, both powerful hands remaining at his sides. Bruce could tell he made Clark uncomfortable, but then the older man discovered that he didn’t really give a damn. Call it payback for freeing Bruce’s current sexual outlet from his cell in the Bat Cave basement.

“Take your suit off.”

“Bruce-“

“That’s ‘Mr. Wayne’. You should always address your boss with respect, Clark. Give it a try.”

Blue eyes narrowed at him and for a moment Bruce swore he saw a flicker of glowing red.

“This is sexual harassment.”

“‘Sexual harassment, Mr. Wayne’,” Bruce corrected. “Are you going to call HR and report me?”

“I should.”

“You should, but you won’t.”

By that time Bruce’s hands were stroking over Clarks chiseled abdomen and his hips slowly winding around to brush the hero’s clothed cock. It was thrilling. Bruce didn’t even know he had a boss-employee domination kink when it came to Clark Kent. Now that he had the man there in Wayne Manor looking ready to be devoured however Bruce decided to push the limits of what Superman would allow.

For a minute it honestly looked like Clark might tell him to go fuck himself and exit out the nearest window, but then the man of steel moved one hand back over his opposing shoulder and touched a sensory switch somewhere that made the Superman regalia vanish from sight. Bruce wasn’t all that disappointed. Clark Kent wearing nothing but navy briefs was fuel enough for some serious spank material that he could use later. Bruce was like a starving man invited to a feast, and he had every intention of getting his fill. Now just to convince Clark that this was a good idea.

Bruce hooked a finger in the waistband of the Kryptonian’s briefs, slowly tugging them down and exposing Clark’s flaccid cock to the air. He had been curious about it ever since listening to Jack’s filthy announcement that Superman had the biggest cock he had ever experienced, and sure enough it was impressive even without any enthusiasm on Clark’s part to stiffen it. Bruce could fix that however. Smirking at the slightly taller man, Bruce Wayne sank to his knees and caught a flash of shock in Clark’s blue eyes before Bruce sucked half of the hero’s dick into his mouth, tongue pressing to the underside to tease.

Clark gasped but remained otherwise still.  
“Bruce… Mr. Wayne…I’m not gay.”

“Mmm… Neither am I.”

He didn’t make a habit of sucking cock, but Bruce did a decent job in his opinion when he wanted to. And ohh yes, he wanted to suck Superman. It was exquisite how the cock in his mouth began to flush and fill with blood slowly, betraying that Clark might not be gay but a blowjob was a blowjob regardless of who was performing it. Distantly Bruce wondered what Clark would do if he tried to slip a finger in the younger man’s ass, but at threat of super hero dismemberment he opted to just stick with his mouth on Clark’s member.

Bruce slid his mouth up and down the thick shaft, one hand gripping Clark at the base to hold his cock in place as his lips applied light pressure and his tongue found a vein on the underside that he concentrated on tracing with the wet appendage. He became aware of Clark’s hand sliding into his hair and this felt like a victory even if Clark wasn’t forcing him to take more. Bruce did that on his own, relaxing his jaw and swallowing the larger man to the base in one swift motion earning the first low groan from Clark. He felt those fingers twitch in his hair, and after a moment Bruce could feel a light pressure on his head courtesy of that hand now guiding him gently. If his full mouth could have formed a smile he would be grinning ear to ear.

Instead Bruce sucked harder and began bobbing his head earnestly taking the other man’s sizeable dick between his lips and down his throat. The more aroused that Clark got the impossibly larger he grew, and it was quickly becoming a tight fit for the billionaire playboy. Unbidden the image of Clark pushing him face-down onto the polished wood of the table and shoving that incredible dick into Bruce’s ass invaded the older man’s thoughts, and Bruce moaned around the length that Clark had started to thrust slightly down his throat. Should he risk pulling back to pitch the idea?

The hand in his hair wasn’t applying much pressure, and when Bruce pulled off Clark’s cock the younger man let him pull back and turn his gaze upwards. Bruce focused up at Clark, a hint of precum clinging to the side of his lips and his voice was a little rough from the thorough throat fucking he had received. His hand continued stroking Clark hoping it would distract the alien from fleeing now of all times.

“I want you to fuck me, Clark. Want you to shove your perfect fucking cock in my ass and pound me raw.”

There was surprise in his partner’s eyes, but Clark didn’t try to escape at least. Actually, he seemed to be considering the offer, and that was reason for Bruce to rise again, fingers making quick work of his own belt and suit pants, shoving them down to his knees. He felt those blue eyes following his every motion as Bruce Wayne bent over the table slightly and all but presented his muscled ass to Clark in offering. For a long moment the younger man just stared at him and Bruce worried that it was too much too soon, but then the erect alien was moving behind him and Bruce groaned as that mammoth cock ground against his offered ass.

Distantly Bruce regretted not coming prepared with lube at the very least, but Clark was spreading his ass cheeks and it was much too late to suggest it now. Low and behold, Kent brought two fingers to his mouth and wet them with saliva before using the slick digits to massage Bruce’s hole and slick it then pushing inside completely to the last knuckle. It wasn’t a gentle stretching, but Bruce didn’t exactly want coddling from Superman. Instead he arched his back and practically presented himself to Clark which earned him a low groan and even better, a soft bite to his neck just below the collar. Clark was full of surprises.

“Fuck me, Kent.” Bruce braced his body with hands on the polished wood of the table. “Don’t coddle me, I just need your dick.”

Behind him he could practically feel Clark frowning but the younger man just spit in his hand and slicked his cock. It was all the preparation Bruce was allowing himself, and now the Metropolis hero was pressing a hand into the center of Bruce’s back shoving him like tempered steel into the wood and keeping him bent over lewdly. Slowly Clark pressed his dick into the impossibly tight cavern of Bruce Wayne’s ass earning him a drawn out groan from the older man. This sting from the intrusion was uncomfortable, unnecessary and exactly what Bruce wanted from his encounter with Superman and his impossibly large dick.

Surprisingly Clark didn’t need much encouragement, hastening the pace all on his own and pretty soon the hero’s powerful thighs were snapping forward sliding out nearly to the tip on each stroke before burying himself again to the root. Bruce remained pinned to the table, but the billionaire did shift one hand down to jerk himself off beneath the table while Clark plowed into his ass. He could sympathize right now with the Joker’s request to be wrecked to smaller dicks, Bruce’s hole was getting pulverized by that veiny cock on each stroke and the pained pleasure was exquisite. Something told the older man he would be feeling the effects of this fucking for days.

“Christ Clark! Fuck me harder. Your cock is so damn big.”

Apparently the hero was not immune to some ego fluffing since Clark doubled down and plowed into him harder and faster, slamming into the older man repeatedly. Bruce’s hand sped on his own dick and pretty soon he was moaning through gritted teeth as he came all over his fingers and the bottom of the table. Superman could have gone on for hours and part of him was tempted to do it just to prove a point to Bruce Wayne, but the clamping down on his cock added intensity to what was already a tight fit and Clark slammed forward just a few more times before flooding the inside of Bruce’s ass with an abundance of semen.

For several seconds the pair remained frozen like that joined at the waist. It was Clark who moved first, withdrawing his hand from Bruce’s back and pulling free of the man’s ass before stepping back and tugging his briefs back up into place. He didn’t even break a sweat. Did Clark Kent even sweat? Bruce didn’t know, but there was a light sheen on his own forehead and his legs felt like jelly. Not the most graceful of motions as he bent to pull his trousers back into place and straightened his tie. Now for the awkward post-sex exit.

“I should go,” Clark said softly, his suit rematerializing before Bruce’s eyes and the billionaire nodded, relieved that this wouldn’t be one of his more awkward post-sex exits.

“Take the rest of the day off,” Bruce offered with a wry smile. “Call it ‘Manager’s Discretion’.”

Clark stared at him and for a moment Bruce expected him to argue the point but then the Kryptonian just nodded and left the room without further comment. Alone and very much aware that cum was leaking down his pant leg Bruce Wayne moved to the bar and poured himself two fingers of dark liquor sipping it slowly. All in all it was a damn good day.


	3. Chapter 3

Night fell like a shroud over Gotham and those citizens concerned with their own safety bolted their doors against the constant threat of crime that persisted outside in the darkness. It was a fact of life in Gotham, one that the Batman had been trying to improve but fear always lingered even after a successful night spent delivering criminals to the police station steps. Tonight it was probably for the best that they didn’t have an audience since the Joker was on the loose yet again with two of the Justice League tracking him into a seedier part of town made up predominantly of gun shops, drug dealers and tattoo parlors.

Batman frowned as he crouched on a nearby rooftop and his suit’s sensors indicated the Joker was just a hundred yards away inside one of the numerous tattoo shops. Behind him was Clark, the younger man following his gaze to the indicated building, able to see inside where Batman could not courtesy of his x-ray eyes. He could see civilians in there along with their target and that made the man of steel uneasy. Bruce remained motionless, his voice gravelly.

“He hasn’t moved in the last four hours. He probably knows we’re tracking him.”

What surprised Clark most was that no one else in the building seemed on edge with the Joker in their midst. For all he knew they might not even be aware of who the pale man was, and that could potentially complicate things. Clark could see their target stretched out chest-down on a table or reclining chair, his back exposed and a civilian bent over him working diligently.

“It looks like he’s getting a tattoo?”

Batman actually growled in response and Clark was temporarily caught off guard when the Gotham vigilante leapt down from the roof and made his way boldly across the street to throw the shop door open and stride inside. So much for the element of surprise. Superman was confused but he quickly followed Bruce’s path and entered the shop behind him taking note of the shocked faces of the employees and clientele. He saw Bruce crowding one of the chairs, and sure enough there was the smirking face of their target, his hair no longer a tame blonde but instead a bright shade of green. The artist seated beside him set his tattoo gun down shakily and looked first to Batman then Superman.

“C-Can I h-help you?”

“Get out. Now.”

The parlor employees and other patrons seemed relieved to be dismissed by Batman actually. Clark watched as each one of them hurriedly stood up and fled out of the shop before the sound of engines starting and cars leaving the premises reached his ears. They were alone now, and the newly tattooed man stretched on the chair languidly but stayed in his current position looking first to Batman then Superman, a bemused smile on his lips. It was Bruce who growled low into his vocal modulator while glaring at the black ink on pale skin.

“Four goddamn months spent removing these and you get free all of twelve hours and they’re back. You look like a gangster’s bottom bitch.”

The Joker grinned.

“What can I say? I’m a classy girl, Batsy.”

Clark figured they would be making a hasty exit. He wasn’t prepared when one of Batman’s gloved hands moved to the tattoo gun and flicked the switch sending it buzzing ominously in the otherwise silent building. Even the Joker as he lay there on the chair seemed confused by this turn of events before a dark eagerness invaded the man’s expression turning his smile to a grin. Bruce’s other hand yanked the vigilante’s jeans down and Clark’s eyes went wide as Batman went to work on his own tattoo applied to the small of the Joker’s back just above his ass crease. It was crazy, no different than a bat brand really, and Clark looked away uncomfortably as Bruce worked in silence.

When the buzzing stopped several minutes later Clark dared to look down and the thick black words on pale skin shone up at him earning a disbelieving frown from Superman. The Joker meanwhile shifted on the reclined chair and looked over his shoulder taking in the new tattoo with an approving grin.

“‘Cum Dumpster’. Oh, Brucie-Goosey, I love it. It’s just so…me.”

Well, it was definitely not the reaction that Clark was expecting, but then again this man was crazy. Thankfully Bruce put the tattoo gun down having been satisfied with this lesson, and his hand grabbed the Joker's upper arm dragging him upright and into a standing position. The man barely had time to pull his jeans back on and grab his shirt. Clark recognized it as the same one he had given the Joker last night before it was discarded over the side of his bed. Batman didn’t seem to care if the Joker was brought in with his tits hanging out, but Clark remained an immovable presence in the doorway until the Joker was covered up. He had seen vulnerability in this man the night before and remembering how the Joker called his body ‘freakish’ stayed with Clark and solidified his resolve for decency even in the face of Batman’s impatient scowl.

“Where are we taking him?”

“Bat Cave. I’ll bring him in, you can go home.”

“No, I’ll meet you at the Cave.”

Clark didn’t give the older man room to argue, just shooting upwards into the air and flying towards Gotham as indicated. It was nearly an hour later when Batman’s jet flew into the hangar bringing both Bat and his prisoner back to the same place that Clark had freed him from last night. Clark had checked the now familiar tunnel before they arrived and was disturbed to find that the door had not been repaired. Where Bruce intended on keeping the Joker he didn’t know, but he would certainly be asking that very question.

Batman emerged from the jet with his hand locked unforgivingly around the Joker’s upper arm yanking the man bodily from the interior of the plane and down a series of steps until they both stood on the Bat Cave floor before Superman. Bruce didn’t look thrilled that Clark had shown up as promised, but the Joker was grinning ear to ear just from seeing his new lover there.

“Superman~. You gonna join me and Batsy for a little friendly fornication?”

The hand on his arm tightened and jerked the Joker’s shoulder up at an odd angle but instead of wringing a pained sound the green-haired man moaned and pressed against Batman’s kevlar-clad body. That was the moment that Clark realized the bruises, the teeth marks, the blood, all of what he had seen and smelled on the Joker the night before were probably the result of some consensual, albeit fucked up sex between Bruce and his prisoner. He accepted this now, and after a moment of consideration he ignored Bruce’s violent attempt to silence the Joker and even smiled at the pair.

“Well, I wasn’t planning on making yesterday a one-night stand. It was…enjoyable.”

The Joker grinned, Batman stared and Clark made his approach slowly to cup the younger man’s cheek and press a deep, hungry kiss to the Joker’s lips. This time he didn’t fear being too rough. Jack might be fragile but the Joker could take everything he had to give, and Clark didn’t even resist the urge to bite those laughing lips open and plunge his tongue into the other man’s mouth, tasting him fully while Bruce watched the pair of them. His elevated hearing could pick up the slight uptick in Bruce Wayne’s pulse along with the way his blood started shooting south driving the billionaire vigilante to hardness. The kiss was rough and passionate but before long Batman’s low voice interrupted the pair.

“Let’s take this upstairs.”

Clark was surprised he didn’t feel any hesitation sleeping with these two men, but in the last twenty four hours he had technically had sex with both of them already. Even the unexpected encounter with Bruce Wayne several hours earlier had been pleasurable when he reflected on it, although he missed the dirty words of encouragement that the Joker had spouted when he fucked the younger man. Hopefully he could wring some more filthiness from the green-haired man yet again, and the prospect of it was causing Clark’s cock to swell in his Superman suit.

Evidently he wasn’t the only one eager for this coupling since the Joker all but dragged Batman with him upstairs and into the master bedroom where Bruce Wayne’s enormous custom bed awaited the three of them. Superman’s suit was easy to remove, just a hand over his shoulder and touching the sensor that made the alien fabric vanish which gave him time to yank open the Joker’s button-down shirt sending buttons flying into the dark corners of the bedroom. The jeans he pulled off as well and Clark didn’t even await permission before shoving his hand between those pale thighs and pressing two dry fingers inside the Joker’s slit earning him a groan.

“We need condoms,” Clark reminded them before things got too heated, but Batman snorted and the Joker just laughed at him outright.

“I’d be a lousy cum dumpster if I let you wrap it up, Superman.”

“Really,” Bruce added from the foot of his bed as he finally emerged from his armored suit and made his way over to the pair of them in just a pair of briefs. He shrugged. “He gets off on being fucked and filled with cum. I don’t care, it feels good without one on and he’s a slut for bare cock.”

The Joker batted his eyes at the pair of them and then wrapped his legs around Clark’s torso tugging the Metropolis hero down against his newly tattooed body. Clark had been taught the benefits of safe sex even if his alien body was immune from human diseases, but all of this new bedroom arrangement seemed reckless and he found the beast in his chest purring at the idea of barebacking these men yet again. The wrongness of it made his cock twitch and the Joker took that exact moment to clench down on his fingers driving the point home with his whispered filth.

“C’mon, Supes. I wanna service your enormous cock with my pussy til you blow a thick load in me. I’ll lick you clean too,” those grinning lips promised him sweetly.

Bruce grunted having left his underwear on the floor and climbed onto the bed beside the other men to capture the Joker’s lips.

“What about me?”

“You can watch.”

Batman growled and bit into the Joker’s laughing mouth, silencing him with an aggressive kiss that neither party seemed to mind in the least. Clark took the moment of distraction to add a third finger inside the Joker’s slick hole, scissoring them and drawing wetness from the green-haired man. He would need it to fit inside what he remembered was a deliciously tight slit. Anticipation made him slide his fingers free and Clark began stroking himself with the Joker’s natural lubrication while he watched the pair make out. Eventually Bruce was the one who pulled back and reached into his bedside table drawing a tube of lubricant out.

“Wish we had this earlier today.”

That made the Joker arch his brow grinning lecherously. Ohh, he would pay good money to have witnessed these two buff heroes sucking and fucking each other senseless. Maybe they would do it again and let him witness it this time around. For now though he was being manhandled by Clark’s steely muscles pulling him up from the mattress and then deposited atop the older man straddling his waist. He could feel one of Clark’s hands digging into his hip while the other positioned the hero’s now erect ten inches with the tip against the Joker’s slit. There was no need to push himself inside, the Joker raised his hips and arched back, slowly sliding down Clark’s dick until he was fully seated in Superman’s lap groaning.

The taller man lay back against the pillows and watched as the Joker began riding his bare cock seeking to wring an orgasm from the hero, though not just yet. Not while Bruce was there near the base of the bed slicking his fingers with the lube and then stroking his own sizeable dick to the delicious sight of his two companions fucking. Clark’s brow was creased from the effort not to just grab those pale hips and use his inhuman strength to jerk the Joker up and down his shaft, but then Bruce was moving again up onto his knees and pressing himself against the tattooed man’s back forcing the pair to remain still.

“Ready for this?” Bruce purred into the shell of the Joker’s ear, biting the lobe slightly and grinding his cock into the crack of the smaller man’s ass. “You’re such a goddamn cock slut I’ll bet taking two big dicks is a piece of cake for you. Bet you don’t even feel it now after Superman wrecked your cunt last night. I’ll have to ass-fuck you from now on, huh?”

The Joker groaned, and he wasn’t the only one getting off on Bruce’s dirty talk. Clark’s cock twitched in approval inside the wet slit leaking his precum in the already slick space. He could feel Bruce’s dick nudging against the hole just above his, and there was no stretching or other preparation before Batman started to push inside the Joker’s ass with a long, smooth stroke. Clark was seeing stars. He could feel Bruce’s dick through the thin membrane separating them, and it made the already tight slit even tighter now that the Joker was being double stretched.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” The Joker cursed and then whimpered when his hair was yanked jerking his head backwards at a harsh angle for Bruce’s teeth to sink into his neck. It would leave one hell of a mark.

“You love it,” Bruce countered gravelly. “Just being a hot sleeve for bare cocks. A proper cum dumpster ready for anyone to fuck and blow a load in your wrecked holes.”

Part of Clark knew he shouldn’t find this whole situation as arousing as he did, but those words and the feel of sharing the Joker’s body with Bruce made the beast in his chest roar for him to stop pussyfooting around and take charge already. He reached down to grip the Joker’s hips in each hand and without asking permission Clark used his inhuman strength to begin manually fucking the villain atop his and Bruce’s shafts. It was probably harder and faster than was necessary, but if Bruce and the Joker were willing he had the strength to push them all closer to the edge.

The Joker’s hands clamped onto Clark’s shoulders holding on for dear life as he was jerked up and down like a toy while a continuous stream of moans, curses and cries escaped his lips. Bruce didn’t even have to thrust with Clark doing all the work, and Batman braced himself upright with one hand while the other reached around and began jerking the Joker off using the residual lubricant that clung to his fingers after slicking himself up. The Joker didn’t need a lot of stroking, and within just a few minutes the green-haired criminal had tears running down his cheeks as he arched back and came all over Bruce’s fist.

From that point on it was like an unspoken endurance competition between Superman and the Bat. Clark’s arms continued to lift the Joker’s spent body so he rode their erections without any effort on the tattooed man’s part and Clark had to give him credit, there was no complaining from the Joker. Nearly an hour passed, Clark’s strength never waning and he could see a sheen of sweat on Bruce’s forehead, could feel his pulse stuttering and hear his labored breathing as the pair continued their onslaught on the Joker’s body. No human could best Superman though, and with a grunt Bruce finally thrust up against the Joker’s ass as he forced himself deep and came.

After that Bruce pulled out and shifted to lay beside Clark on the bed. He was sated and yet enjoyed the sight of his pale prisoner being bounced on Clark’s ridged ten inches unforgivingly. It was almost like putting on a show for Bruce Wayne, and Clark allowed himself another fifteen minutes of rapid thrusting before his hands forced the Joker down one final time and he pressed his lips to whisper darkly in the man’s ear:

“Take every last drop, slut.”

The Joker was spent but he still moaned and arched his back tiredly as Clark’s cock shot several thick ropes of cum all the way lodged inside him. It was with surprising gentleness that the Metropolis hero lifted the Joker off his cock and passed him to Bruce who was already settled down in the bedding and welcomed him with open arms. They shared a lazy kiss that seemed almost tame to Clark Kent after all that had happened leading up to it, but he was glad to see there was some genuine affection between the pair beyond just sex. Idly Bruce traced his fingers over one of the new tattoos on the Joker’s ribcage and frowned.

“Removing these again hardly seems worth the effort.”

“Then don’t.” The Joker smirked up at him. “I like yours the best, Brucie.”

Bruce grumbled something about fucking a walking billboard, but it was Clark who interjected after a moment spent watching the pair interact.

“You don’t have to completely change who he is. Just keep him medicated and out of trouble.”

The Joker tipped his head to the side on the pillow and regarded Bruce Wayne while the older man seemed to ponder Clark’s words. It was quite the suggestion- letting the Joker be who he was without trying to change him, to ‘normalize’ him. He felt compelled to fix the man for the sake of society, but deep down Bruce rather liked his wild, unconventional lover just the way he was with one small exception.

“No metal veneers. It was like kissing a piece of dirty playground equipment.”

Even Clark couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him, but when he looked the Joker was grinning too so he didn’t feel bad for making light of Bruce’s request. It felt easier now being with the both of them, pressed spooning against the Joker’s back while facing Bruce Wayne as all three of them lay together. And who knows? Maybe Clark would get a request to join them in the bedroom again sometime. He certainly wouldn’t turn down an invitation.


End file.
